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Draco strides quickly down the length of the corridor, loosening his tie. He turns into an abandoned girl’s bathroom, and then crosses the room to grip the central sink with both hands. Shaking, he pulls his sweater over his head and casts it aside. He looks in the mirror, panicked eyes pleading with himself. In the reflection, he sees bathroom door swing open. Potter. Of course. Draco hurries to unbutton his shirt, and has moved onto his trousers by the time Potter reaches him. “I can help you there,” Potter whispers.
Harry reaches around to run his hands along Malfoy’s toned abdomen, relishing his beautiful groan. Malfoy’s shirt slips off his shoulder and Harry bites down on the exposed flesh. While sucking a bruised mark onto the pale skin, he slides his hand under Malfoy’s open trousers, shoving them down to the floor. Malfoy’s belt buckle clangs loudly against the tile floor, but neither of them notice now that Harry’s fingers are wrapped around Malfoy’s slender cock. Wandlessly summoning lube with his free hand, Harry dips his wet fingertips in between Malfoy’s arse cheeks, teasing the blond’s hole while Malfoy bucks against him.
“Hurry up, Potter,” Draco moans, eyes catching Potter’s in the mirror. Potter grins, dragging his teeth along Draco’s shoulder without breaking their eye-contact, running the pad of his index finger around and around Draco’s hole, tugging Draco’s cock at the completion of each circle. “Fuck Potter, just…” Potter raises an eyebrow, finger lingering over Draco’s opening. Draco’s proud chin drops, knowing what Potter’s waiting for. “Please,” he whispers, “please Potter, please – ” and then he’s gasping and bucking forward, thighs pushed tight against the cold lip of the low sink, because Potter’s finger has finally pushed in, only it’s not one finger, it’s two, and they’re moving at an alarming rate, stretching Draco open, pushing deeper and deeper and heading straight for his prostate.
Fuck, he loves it when Malfoy begs. Harry scissors his fingers, getting Malfoy ready for him. When he finds the spot right there, Malfoy wails and pushes back on Harry’s fingers shamelessly. Malfoy whimpers one more time, “P-Potter,” and Harry takes pity on him. Slicking his own aching cock while spreading the gorgeous cheeks with one hand, Harry thrusts into Malfoy inch by inch. He shudders as Malfoy’s muscles contract around him, adjusting to the intrusion. Harry meets the fiery grey eyes in the mirror again and pulls back out slowly before impaling him completely. Crying out, Malfoy’s head falls back onto Harry’s shoulder and Harry licks across his neck as he starts up a steady rhythm.
Draco’s starting to see stars. He’s so hot, everywhere, but particularly where Potter’s touching him, where Potter’s thick cock is thrusting steadily and his Quidditch-calloused hands are stroking relentlessly. He’s filled with the heat, with Potter’s grass-and-ink scent, with the intense green of Potter’s gaze, with a need so instant that he knows it won’t be much longer until he’s spilling himself all over the mirror. Potter’s tongue works it’s way further up Draco’s neck, reaching his ear and sucking wetly. Fuck, Draco thinks, and “Potter,” he whimpers, closing his eyes as the pleasure builds and Potter hits his prostate again and again and everything is fire and - and something cold closes around the base of his cock, clicking shut with a whisper of magic, and Draco’s release builds and builds behind an untouchable wall, unable to break free.
When the cock ring magics around Malfoy, Harry feels a surge of desperation from him. “I’m not finished with you,” Harry growls out throatily and Malfoy releases a choked sob in response. Gripping the bony hips painfully, Harry grinds against Malfoy and begins fucking him at a brutal pace. Goddamn, there is nothing like the feeling of Malfoy’s hot arse clenching his cock. Malfoy’s knuckles are white with their hold on the sink counter and his sweaty palms are slipping, but it doesn’t matter. One of Harry’s arms is wrapped around Malfoy, holding him upright against himself. He can see Malfoy’s leaking cock and flushed chest in the mirror now. “Look at yourself.” Malfoy’s eyes fly back open and Harry is watching his reflection as he rams into him. “You’re so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this.”
Malfoy struggles to hold his own eyes in the mirror. He fails to see the beauty that Potter’s referring to; his hair is half as messy as Potter’s, his lip trembling, his cock twitching and leaking and aching. He can’t help bucking his hips, trying desperately to gain some friction even though he knows that there’s nothing for him to grind against but air. Not that it would help. Potter’s ring gleams against his cock, the metal sitting tight and cold at the base. “Potter, please, oh Merlin, I need – “ Draco’s begging cuts off with a sob as Potter abruptly pulls out of his arse, leaving Draco empty and cold and throbbing.
“Would you rather Merlin be fucking you, Malfoy? Is that why you’re saying his name?” Potter’s grip against Draco’s chest tightens, almost painfully, and Draco bites his lip. He shakes his head desperately, unable to trust his voice. He pushes his body back against Potter’s, seeking his cock, silently pleading.
Harry holds Malfoy’s torso firmly, keeping a space between them. “Use your words, Malfoy.” He glares at the blond’s face in the mirror. “Who do you want fucking you, filling you? Whose cock is it that you beg for so desperately?”
Malfoy’s voice cracks and his entire body is trembling when he responds. “Y-you, oh fuck, Potter. Always you, only you. Please,please, I need you.”
Snarling, Harry slams back into Malfoy, but stills once he’s inside him, ignoring Malfoy’s pretty noises. He braces himself with one hand on Malfoy’s groin and the other hand at the base of Malfoy’s neck. “That’s fucking right, Malfoy. This arse is mine. You’re mine.” Malfoy whimpers and nods against Harry’s hand, and Harry begins to fuck him again in earnest, thrusting into him so vigorously that Malfoy’s feet lift off the ground for a moment.
At any other time, Draco would be embarrassed by the noises that he’s making. But Potter’s slamming into him, cruelly hitting his prostate, breathing hot and quick against his neck, and Draco’s never been able hold back his whimpers at times like these - he’s never been able to do anything but moan and tremble and beg. “Potter, Potter, Potter,” he cries, again and again, his entire body on edge. His sweaty hands are slipping against the sink, but he knows not to let go. If he lets go, he’ll be tempted to touch his cock; and his cock belongs to Potter, just like his arse does, and Potter doesn’t like it when Draco touches his possessions without permission… which means that all Draco can do while Potter’s fucking him and the need to come is ballooning is just wiggle and beg and whimper… and then sticky heat is shooting into him and Potter’s hands are struggling to retrain their grip and Potter’s mouth is gifting Draco with a tiny little sob-gasp that Draco knows he’ll never forget.
The last of Harry’s release floods into Malfoy, making the rest of his ride slippery and perfect. Harry is shaking from coming, from holding Malfoy up, from the whirlwind of lust tearing through his mind and body. Malfoy is sobbing now, barely hanging on to his sanity as he begs, “F-fuck, oh fuck, please!”
Three more slowing thrusts, and then Harry is pulling his spent cock out and whipping Malfoy around, ignoring the blond’s desperate protests, and shoving him back against the sink. Before Malfoy can utter another sound, Harry drops to his knees and swallows Malfoy’s cock in one go. Malfoy screams, hands flying to grasp at Harry’s hair, and fuck, Harry loves it. He forces Malfoy to hang on for just a bit longer. “You were so good, Malfoy,” he gasps while bobbing his head around to lick and suck at the throbbing cock. “So hot and desperate, taking my come like it’s all you want. Should I reward you?” Malfoy says nothing, just tightens his fingers in his hair and moans brokenly. Harry decides Malfoy’s earned his own climax, he’s been in need since Harry arrived. The cock ring unhinges itself, falling to the floor loudly, and Harry opens his throat to the head of Malfoy’s cock at the exact second the ring releases.
As the ring breaks, so does Draco. His knees give way, his mouth falls open, and his cock bursts it’s load, pulsing and thrusting and burning in the wet-warm of Potter’s mouth. “Harry,” he sobs, grasping at the kneeling boy’s hair desperately. Potter’s eyes widen, and he sucks, so hard that Draco’s head snaps back and his sight blurs. And then Potter’s mouth is gone, and Draco’s wet cock is hanging spent and sensitive in the cold air. If it wasn’t for Potter’s arms quickly coming to hold him up, Draco knows he would have likely collapsed to the floor.
Potter wraps an arm around Draco’s back, rubbing his thumb up and down Draco’s spine. “You called me Harry,” he whispers, and brings his other hand up to smooth through Draco’s hair.
“I…” Draco, lethargic and still floating with post-orgasm pleasure, doesn’t know how to respond. Potter’s body is warm against his own, and soft. Draco thinks he could just go to sleep right here, head resting on Potter’s shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly in a sound mental state, Potter,” he mumbles.
Harry hums in agreement, but his mind is whirling. He’s been wondering a lot lately if they could be more than this - these dangerous, desperate trysts in the middle of the night - but has no idea what this thing is to Malfoy. For minutes or maybe hours, Harry just stands there holding Malfoy against him, leaning against the cold porcelain. He traces soothing circles into Malfoy’s flushed skin, helping him steady his breathing. The lingering taste of Malfoy’s come in his mouth makes him lick his lips, and the movement stirs Malfoy, who tilts his head up to look at Harry.
“Potter…” Draco ventures, finding himself unable to look away from those green eyes. “Do you think…” Potter lowers his head, resting his nose against Draco’s, and that small touch steadies Draco’s breathing enough to force out the next words: “You’ve claimed my genitals happily enough… aren’t you interested in the rest of me?” Potter’s hands tighten against his back, the circling fingers falling still. “I mean,” Draco pushes on, “do you like the fact that Pansy tries to kiss me all the time? Or the way that all those students brush up against me when the halls are busy between class? Blaise still thinks he has a chance, you know. He propositioned me again, just this morning.” Potter’s hands continue to clench as Draco falls silent, his fingers digging painfully into Draco’s back. Abruptly, Potter presses his lips to Draco’s, close-mouthed and forceful. Pulling away just as quickly as he pushed in, Potter meets Draco’s gaze full-on.
“Stop talking about other people touching you.” Malfoy looks at him in mild amusement but Harry pushes on. “Of course I’m interested in the rest of you, you daft Slytherin. I don’t know what this is, but I want to pursue it. I just didn’t know how you felt! You’re so difficult to figure out - unless of course you’re begging for my cock.” Malfoy swats his shoulder and Harry laughs. It feels good to laugh with Malfoy. “But really, how would I have known? I can’t base your feelings off of how you act right after we fuck, seeing as how you’re ‘not exactly in a sound mental state.’ You don’t meet my eyes in class anymore, I was…” Harry trails off, biting his lip anxiously. “I was worried you were ashamed of what we’ve been doing, or of me.”
Draco feels his nerves calm slightly with Potter’s words. Playing Potter’s jealousy against him had always garnered varying reactions in the past… Draco is glad that the bet has payed off, this time. “I’m not ashamed, you idiot Gryffindor. I just don’t particularly want to get hard while brewing Pepper Up, or start salivating while turning bloody beetles into buttons,” Draco explains, rolling his eyes. His expression earns a laugh from Potter, and those casual sounds tug at something in Draco’s chest. “Honestly, Potter, you’re the one who sends me owls at midnight saying: ‘Malfoy, get your tight arse to Myrtle’s bathroom right now’ and little else. So you can hardly blame my assumption that it’s my arse you care about.”
Again, Potter is laughing. “Oh come on Malfoy, that wasn’t the exact wording,” he grins, bumping Draco with his shoulder.
Draco raises an eyebrow. “I have a little slip of parchment in my bedside drawer that disagrees with you, Potter.”
Harry’s face splits into a grin. “You keep my notes? In your bedside table?” Malfoy instantly blushes, and it’s such a pretty thing. Harry wants to make him blush from light-hearted teasing as often as he flushes from sex. To ease Malfoy’s apparent embarrassment, Harry cups his jaw and kisses him, slowly and tenderly, and Malfoy melts into him. It’s so different from their usual frenzied assaults, and Harry revels in it, taking his time to claim every crevice of the mouth as his. When he finally pulls back, Malfoy looks dazed. Rubbing his thumb over Malfoy’s ravished lips, Harry whispers, “Sit with me at breakfast tomorrow.”
Draco blinks. His lips are still tinging from Potter’s kiss, and he’s not sure he’s heard Potter’s words correctly. Surely Potter doesn’t actually doesn’t mean… Draco blushes, because the way Potter’s eyes are starting to worry and Potter’s fingers are starting to fidget can only mean that yes, Potter actually does mean exactly what he said. “Like hell I will, Potter,” Draco says, enjoying Potter’s instant look of hurt panic. It’s not often that Draco’s in control when it comes to the great and only Harry Potter, so it’s best to exploit all and any opportunities as they arise. He grabs Potter’s chin, using his height and the weight of his gaze to force Potter’s vulnerable eyes into his. “You may be in charge when we take our clothes off, Potter, but outside this door I’ve a reputation to uphold. So tomorrow morning, you’ll come and sit with me, at Slytherin table. Agreed?” Potter punches him lightly in the arm (which Draco supposes he deserves), but at least he nods.
And then Potter is smirking, and stepping up closer. Draco feels calloused fingers close hard around his flaccid cock, and Potter whispers: “you might be getting me to come sit with you tomorrow, Malfoy, but right now, our clothes are still off.” Potter’s fingers squeeze, and Draco can’t hold back a small whimper. He’s still so sensitive. Potter smirks at the sound, adding: “and that means I’m in charge.”